The infant European Nations Cup was all about the Soviets. They flew out of the blocks in the very first qualification game, Anatoli Ilyin scoring after four minutes against Hungary in front of a 100,000-plus crowd in Moscow's fancy new Central Stadium, and never looked back. They were 3-0 up by the 32nd minute, eventually winning the game 3-1. For the second leg in Budapest, Hungary brought back a couple of superannuated Magical Magyars in Gyula Grosics and József Bozsik, and a young star-to-be in Florian Albert, but the Soviets were still too good, and registered a 1-0 win.

In the quarters, Spain's right-wing dictator General Franco claimed full marks for irony, rolling out the red carpet to allow the USSR to saunter straight through to the semis. Whereupon an impressive Czechoslovakian side starring Josef Masopust were dispatched 3-0 in a sweltering Marseille, a lopsided result in which the Russian keeper Lev Yashin was reportedly his side's star man, despite Valentin Ivanov's two goals.

The final at the Parc des Princes in Paris would not be such a showcase of goalkeeping magnificence. Yugoslavia had the better of the first half, Milan Galic at the heart of everything, switching play this way and that in the middle, swinging in dangerous crosses from the left, and eventually scoring the opener, stooping to head a right-wing cross inside the near post on 43 minutes. Yashin, hanging around by the aforementioned upright, should have thrown his cap on it, but didn't, and rocked back on his heels, punch drunk after the mistake, gaddered on incompetence. Admittedly the legendary keeper otherwise had something of a stormer, superbly saving a couple of Bora Kostic free-kicks, but this was up there with Egon Loy's standing-around-smoking-a-fag display at the European Cup final a couple of months earlier.

But anything Yashin could do badly, his opposite number Blagoja Vidinic could do worse. Just after the restart, Vidinic spilled a low, hard but ultimately speculative shot from the dangerous Valentin Bubukin. Slava Metreveli was on hand to sweep home the loose ball. The match went into extra time, and with seven minutes to go, Mikheil Meskhi clipped in a cross from the left which Vidinic went walkabout to claim. He got nowhere near it, and Slava Metreveli guided a header back past the lost keeper and into the top-left corner.

Had the better team prevailed? With Yugoslavia having slipped it around slickly, it's not clear that they did. But the USSR were a staunch outfit, and having started the ball rolling back in 1959, it was somehow fitting that they were the first team to pick up the Henri Delaunay Trophy. Wearing the greatest kit in the history of football – CCCP proudly across the chest, as bold as the Caucasus mountains – as they did so.

The next European Nations Cup, and the two newly monikered Uefa European Football Championships after that, were pretty heavy on Soviet action too. In 1964, the USSR defended their title all the way to the final, where they were beaten by Spain. In 1968 only the toss of a coin denied them a place in a third final. They made it three finals from four in 1972, sealing their reputation as the most consistent force in the tournament's early years.

West Germany, by comparison, hadn't entered in 1960 or 1964, and had humiliatingly crashed out at the qualifying group stage in 1968 after drawing 0-0 in Albania. However they swaggered to victory in 1972, becoming in the process the tournament's first entry into the Classic Teams canon.

The team contained some legendary names: Franz Beckenbauer, Gerd Müller, Paul Breitner, Sepp Maier. But Euro 72 was Günter Netzer's tournament. The most famous game in their procession to the title was the 3-1 victory against England at Wembley in the quarter-finals. "Football from the year 2000," claimed one newspaper then, giving the sophisticated performance a futuristic gloss at a time when nobody could have possibly anticipated the horrors of Carsten Jancker, Paulo Rink and Jens Jeremies. But despite Netzer swaggering about like he owned the place – which was fair enough, because that night he did – the Germans didn't quite achieve the near-perfection suggested by legend. They took a while to finish England off, requiring two late goals to set the seal on a game they should have won long before. The much-less-regarded final, however, is another matter.

This time the Germans didn't hang about before administering the decisive blows. Again Netzer was the star in a 3-0 win. "Attacks came from every direction, yet those that brought the goals all came from the irrepressible Netzer," reported Albert Barham in this the Guardian. Jupp Heynckes was also heavily involved in the first two, Muller following up his shot for the first, Herbert Wimmer tucking away his pass for the second. Muller, needless to say, added the third, ending a move started by Netzer. "Without question West Germany are the best side in Europe since that great Hungarian team of the 1950s," concluded Barham. "Invention triumphed over convention."

And yet West Germany so nearly didn't get their reward, the match coming close to being abandoned near the end, when the woefully mismanaged Heysel crowd – a chilling harbinger – spilled out over fences and stood along the touchlines, at one point mistaking a foul for the final whistle and rushing the stage. Maier, who had little else to do all afternoon, acted as a very effective bouncer, dispatching the encroachers back into the throng.

There were pre-tournament fears that Euro 80 would go untelevised when Italian outside broadcast technicians threatened to have a good old strike. Pennies were proffered, and no plugs were pulled, though once the event was over there was a general sense of regret at an opportunity missed. Euro 80 was – the sweet little mascot apart – an egregious assault on the peepers (and that's before the Italian polis cracked open their tear gas canisters to deal with the panettone-brained oafs England had sent over under the erroneous description of supporters).

Exceptions and rules, and all that, and what better game to buck the trend than the final. By 1980, the West Germans had taken over the USSR's mantle of regular finalists. This would be their third final on the bounce, having been one Panenka away from retaining their title in 1976. Jupp Derwall's side brushed past champions Czechoslovakia, Holland and Greece to get there, while Belgium squeaked past Italy, a highly average England, and Spain to make their first-ever international final.

The Germans were hot favourites, though Belgium were unbeaten all year and knew how to keep games tight, soaking up pressure and looking to occasionally break upfield through Julien Cools, Jan Ceulemans and François Van der Elst. The match started with Germany on the front foot, Horst Hrubesch chesting down and pelting home after 10 minutes. But Belgium did not buckle, despite some German bundestikiundtaka, and although our David Lacey noted that "by half-time West Germany could have been three goals in front", it was still on.

But after the break the Germans lost Hans-Peter Briegel through injury – crumpled by René Vandereycken – and with it their momentum. On 71 minutes, Wilfried Van Moer sent Van der Elst clear, forcing Uli Stielike to upend the striker in the D. Van der Elst threw himself into the area, and a penalty was awarded. A shocker of a decision, but Vandereycken converted.

From that point, Belgium began to threaten. "Had the match gone to a further half hour," wrote Lacey, "It is by no means certain that West Germany would have won, such was the strength of Belgium's recovery having been out-thought and out-paced for half the game." But with two minutes to go, the Germans won a corner, Karlheinz Rummenigge took it, and Hrubesch planted a header home. A dramatic, see-saw victory was complete. Lucky the telly people turned up for work after all, then. Though they can wipe pretty much everything else they taped.

1984 was some year for France. They had started it with a 2-0 friendly victory over England. (As a momentum-scuppering aside, but an intriguing sign of the times, that England team had an all-Luton front line of Paul Walsh and Brian Stein. As well as two Luton players, the side contained two Southampton stars – Steve Williams and Peter Shilton – plus a player apiece from Watford and Ipswich Town in John Barnes and Terry Butcher. Modern football's jiggered the chances of that ever happening again. But anyway.)

France followed that up with three warm-up wins ahead of their hosting of Euro 84, against Austria, West Germany and Scotland. Six goals scored, none conceded. The side – with le carré magique of Michel Platini, Alain Giresse, Luis Fernández and Jean Tigana – were clear favourites to win the Euros. And win it they did, with victories over Denmark, Belgium, Yugoslavia, Portugal and, in the final, Spain. Another 14 goals, only four let in.

Platini having wafted the Henri Delaunay Trophy around his head, the team wrapped up the year with three victories in the World Cup qualifiers against Luxembourg, Bulgaria and East Germany. The 12-match streak, with a tidy symmetry, was bookended by a pair of 0-0 draws in Yugoslavia.

Strangely, of all the 12 games, it was the one which landed France Euro 84, their first major trophy, that was the least convincing. Nothing much had been expected from Spain at the tournament. They were not far short of appalling while hosting the World Cup two years previously, while they'd only managed to qualify ahead of an average Holland on goal difference after an eyebrow-raising 12-1 win in their final group match.

But despite being short on top-drawer talent, they battled hard to reach the final. They only won one game en route to the Parc des Princes – Antonio Maceda's header knocking out Jupp Derwall's reigning champions West Germany in the very last minute of their final group game, as detailed here by Rob Smyth in an earlier Joy of Six, but squeezed past the highly fancied Danish Dynamite side in the semis on penalties to set up the big clash.

Little was expected of them. They were without Maceda, who had also scored against Denmark but picked up a fatal booking in the same match. The equally influential Rafael Gordillo was also suspended, while Andoni Goicoechea was injured. But against the odds they performed magnificently against nervous hosts. They were the better team – Santiago Urquiaga causing havoc down the right, Santillana winning powerful headers in the box – until, on 57 minutes, the normally dependable Luis Arconada jumped over Platini's lame free kick, allowing it to creep into the right-hand corner. In the Guardian, David Lacey compared the mistake to Dan Lewis's howler for Arsenal against Cardiff City in the 1927 FA Cup final.

"The triumph, deserved though it was because of the standard France had set earlier in the tournament, was not particularly distinguished," added Lacey. "Had Spain concentrated more on playing fluent football than hacking down their opponents, they might have taken the game to extra time. There were periods when they seemed the better team." But despite Yvon Le Roux's 85th-minute dismissal for a second bookable offence, Spain could craft nothing. And at the end, Bruno Bellone was sent free by Tigana to bundle France over the line.

Even with the story well told, it's difficult to understate just how unfancied Denmark were at Euro 92. Having turned up at the last minute to replace the stricken Yugoslavs – well, OK, they had nine days' notice – their preparation was slightly shambolic, to say the least. Over half of the squad had been playing league football four days before their opening game, while their best player Michael Laudrup had flounced because he didn't like manager Richard Moller Nielsen's tactics. No chance.

But when the tournament got under way, it soon became clear that Moller Nielsen's side had a buzz about them. "On the early evidence you would have to say that the Danes have the necessary attacking qualities to reach the semi-finals," wrote David Lacey after England's slightly fortunate 0-0 draw with this newly arrived rabble. Brian Laudrup, Flemming Povlsen and the left wing back Henrik Andersen started to make "serious searching runs". John Jensen screwed a shot against the inside of a post. Peter Schmeichel looked formidable in goal.

A week later, a Lars Elstrup winner shocked highly-fancied France, the Danes had made it to the semis, and the continent sat bolt upright to take notice. Reigning champions Holland were still expected to win, but required a late Frank Rijkaard goal to scramble a 2-2 draw, and couldn't take advantage as Marco van Basten missed in the subsequent penalty shootout, Kim Christofte sliding home the decisive spot kick with "a nonchalance that was almost unreal", according to Lacey. "Nobody will underestimate Denmark now, but it is hard to avoid the feeling that last night's events were part of a conspiracy to bring the European Championship to Germany for a third time. The strength of Germany's performance against Sweden [in the other semi, which Germany won by a 3-2 scoreline that flattered the Swedes] and the likely toll this match has taken of Denmark's physical resources can only work in the World Cup holders' favour."

Denmark would be without the hideously injured Henrik Andersen – who cracked his kneecap in the semi – while Brian Laudrup and John Sivebaek were carrying injuries. But they played an almost perfect game. On 18 minutes, Jensen arrowed that shot past Bodo Illgner. Schmeichel went into full octo-keeper mode with some stunning saves: he denied Jurgen Klinsmann and Stefan Reuter early on, Stefan Effenberg just before half time, and finally Klinsmann again with 19 minutes to go.

But Denmark kept it tight for the most part, and had their moments on the counter. With 12 minutes remaining, they sealed victory with a sucker punch, Kim Vilfort – who had missed a great chance earlier in the half – taking advantage of Thomas Helmer's poor clearance to score.

The world champions had been felled by a team who hadn't even qualified by right, as the legendary Lacey noted in what may well stand as the greatest soccer zinger in the history of all journalism: "Nothing much good for Germany ever resulted from shots in Sarajevo."

For 2000, see 1984: a French side superior in just about every department making heavy weather of a final they were expected to walk, at a magical tournament they had defined with their free-scoring sparkle.

This was a better match than the 1984 game, though, only a notch or two below a belter, and a fitting end to the greatest international tournament of modern times (and possibly ever, though that's a debate for another day). Having said that, it took a fair old while to start: 54 minutes, in fact, whereupon Marco Delvecchio ghosted past Marcel Desailly to sidefoot home a teasing Gianluca Pessotto right-wing cross, Pessotto having been set clear by a twinkling Francesco Totti backheel. A goal worthy of capping a superlative three weeks.

But no. Unfancied Italy sat back in order for France to pour forward and leave gaps at the back. The rope-a-dope tactic should have paid off, but Alessandro del Piero and Delvecchio took turns to idiotically spurn a series of opportunities. Meanwhile the best player in the world, Zinedine Zidane, was, according to Lacey, "reduced to the role of a disembodied brain in a laboratory, still able to think but unable to make things happen".

Despite Italy's misses, the rope-a-dope tactic should still have paid off. But entering the fourth and final minute of stoppage time, David Trezeguet set his fellow substitute Sylvain Wiltord away on a skedaddle down the inside left. Wiltord drove through the legs of Francesco Toldo, and extra time loomed.

But Italy were already done. There was only ever going to be one winner after that, and with 13 minutes of extra time gone, Trezeguet lashed home spectacularly after a run from Robert Pirès (a third substitute, chapeau Roger Lemerre). A golden goal, brave Italy were granted no opportunity to strike back; the only blot on an otherwise perfect tournament.